From Beginning to End
by Sasuke-KiraLover
Summary: Rated T for now: will change. Through it all, they were unlikely friends, then unlikely lovers. They made it through everything together but is it enough?


Staring across King's Cross Station with my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding out of my chest, and my feet frozen in place is where my love story begins and ends. I know, I know, we're all sick of love stories; they're absurd and utterly unrealistic. What I'm writing about, however, is real love. No, not the teenage "we'll be together forever," rubbish, I mean the screaming, the hardships, the fear, the irrational fights, the awkward family dinners, and everything else that comes along with it. Some of you may know what I'm speaking of, and let me tell you now, you are the fortunate ones. And finally, remember one thing, we are the makers of our own destiny.

X

I've always been an excessively studious girl with no real extrinsic goal. I like reading, I enjoy solving problems, and I love putting lessons into real life. I value my family more than the typical eleven year old girl. I like school; although my parents worry I don't make enough friends. (Personally, I don't want to, they're all a bit snobbish and rather boring.) I prefer sticking to the books, mostly because they don't chitter about nail varnish or the latest edition of some ridiculous magazine. My parents are dentists. They work together and laugh together, and do mostly everything together. Whenever I think of love, which is rarely and only when I feel particularly lonely, I imagine something similar to what they have. And although my dad is handsome, I picture myself with someone a bit more dashing, but of course he has to like books as much as I do. While my mother says it's a tad rude, I make it a point to stray far from anyone uninterested in books or learning. If there were a better word than "airhead" I would use it.

While I consider myself a particularly precocious student, I have also noticed that I am a slight different than most kids my age. I find that knowledge comes easier to me than them, but that's not all. Sometimes at school I'm a target for some less advanced individuals to bully, and in the direst situations certain things happen, things that I don't control exactly, but things I was certainly hoping would happen. For example, in year 4, a large and froglike girl named Clara Reeves and I were both involved in a spelling bee, and she misspelt the word "vain" (to be fair, she assumed our professor was asking for "vein.") and I won, on what she called a fluke. While I did not deny her statement, my lack of care for her upset only enraged her. She targeted me three days later in the girl's toilet with a pair of scissors and a pair of her closest friends to restrain me. My hair was as wild and curly and long as I dared it to be, and she hacked it mostly off as her friend muffled my cries for help with her hand. "Now, let's dunk her ugly head in the toilet!" Clara had demanded as I struggled further. She did just that after her friends dragged me into a stall. Terrorized, wet, and now especially angry, I yelled for help beneath the hand of her lackey. And help came, though in an unexpected form. The floor around us began to shake and crack and the loo made a terrible bubbling growl before a fountain of water rose high and precisely aimed itself at the three of them. The force of the water pushed them out of the stall, their high-pitched screams echoing loudly throughout the room. Moments later a professor discovered us and the water spray disappeared, leaving the three of them gasping and soaking wet, and me, shaken and nearly bald on the floor next to a toilet. Needless to say they were all severely punished and put into counselling for their obvious twisted sense.

I myself was involved in a few therapy sessions, but I bounced back fairly quickly. My mother, however, was distraught over the loss of my hair which she would often spend long periods of time just running her fingers through. I tried telling my parents about the odd water fountain, but they couldn't grasp it, and wrote it up to my trauma exaggerating things. I, however, knew the truth. I cannot recall the number of hours I spent scouring the local libraries for books on telepathic toilet control or anything similar, all to no avail.

It wasn't until the summer after my eleventh birthday when I realized the full extent of my abilities. I was relaxing in my garden on a warm day, reading a daring tale of a mouse becoming a noble, when a rather large owl landed on a tree branch above me and promptly dropped a hefty envelope into my lap. I was perplexed, our mail never came by owl, and more interesting; our mail was never addressed directly to me! My parents were both at work, and they trusted me enough to leave me home without a sitter now that I was a responsible "in between teenager." So, alone and intrigued in my back garden, I ripped open the letter that was from a place called "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all required books and supplies. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

I studied the letter and the attached list for hours on end. "What would I do with a cauldron?" Eventually I showed my parents and they were as perplexed as I. It was a topic of discussion many nights in a row, my parents skeptical and confused. They had never heard of the school before, and no one had sent in an application for me. Later that week we received another letter by owl, from the same school, but this time it was for my parents. It was directions on where to find all the materials listed and how exactly I would get to the school in the first place.

"Hermione dear," my mother began, "are you sure this school is the one for you? This seems pretty far-fetched." Her furrowed brows and slight frown told her discomfort. I couldn't explain it, but the school just seemed right.

"Mum, I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is where I belong. I am a witch. That's why I never fit in at school, and that's why I can make strange things happen. I feel really good about this." And just like that, I was going. My parents couldn't change my mind. I realized it was scary for them, to find out I was a witch, but it was fascinating for me. There was so much I could learn.

X

Two weeks later I was in Diagon Alley with my parents who looked more uncomfortable and out of place than ever. But not me, I was entranced. There were flame spitting bugs as big as dogs, and children flying around on broomsticks, and people waving their magical wands around every which way. It all felt so right, so perfect. I felt at home. After converting my parents' muggle money into the wizarding currency at a strange bank called "Gringotts" where there were actual goblins, I started going about purchasing the items on my list. The last, yet most mysterious item I purchased was my wand. I noticed it had a lovely leaf pattern carved into it. The moment it touched my palm I felt a feeling of harmony, and as Mr. Ollivander instructed, I waved it in a small circular motion. A small light came from the tip and floated across the room to light a tall and dusted candle, to illuminate the room in a warm yellow glow. Mr. Ollivander sighed dreamily, with his sweet smile and said, "Why yes, dear, I do believe so." My parents were gaping in the background as I paid.

"This is…amazing." My dad finally said in a childlike voice. We walked out of the store, back to the packed streets of Diagon Alley. Shortly thereafter we stopped for lunch and made our way home. I counted the days I had left until I could board the train with a group of other children to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The morning of, I was an untamable mess of long messy curls and excited chatter and random facts about Hogwarts that I had read about in "Hogwarts: A History." My mother was chittering endlessly about having everything packed and getting there on time and "what on earth is platform nine and ¾? That can't be right, can it?" While my father calmly stood drinking coffee and reading the paper. After much fuss about how we would get to the actual platform, we loaded into the car and drove to King's Cross Station.

Upon arrival, I looked around for other witches and wizards, but I couldn't discern them from the crowd of people. I read somewhere in one of the texts that I had bought in Diagon Alley that I had to run through a wall to get to the platform, but I was rather unsure about it all. That is, until I witnessed a blonde young boy and two very angular and tall parents of his doing just that. The peculiar thing was that no one seemed to notice as they disappeared into the wall. My parents had seen, though, and they just looked terrified. But, as my father pulled my trunk and my mother pushed my cart containing another smaller trunk, I grabbed one of each of their hands and ran straight for the wall. We all came out the other side, into a bustle of madness. Children ran everywhere, their parents struggling to follow.

My parents had frozen, somehow stuck still and mesmerized, looking about at the flying notes above their heads, the owls, the Hogwarts Express train huffing and screeching for its passengers to board.

"Hermione, we're late. Hurry up, pumpkin, we'll get your trunk loaded, just get on and find a seat!" My mother hurried me, but grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug before I could. My dad knelt down and hugged us both. "Good luck, Hermione, and write us as often as you can. You can come home whenever you want. We love you, dear." His voice gave way at the end, and I myself was feeling rather tearful.

"I love you mum, dad. I've got to go." I gave each of them a kiss and hurried to the train, waving at them once I stepped on. I lingered there, waving for a tad too long. They were struggling to get my baggage aboard when I noticed a familiar head of white blonde hair near them.

It was the boy that I had watched run through before me. He was shaking hands with the taller blonde man, whose hair was rather long. The woman knelt beside him, tears in her eyes. She was speaking to him and kissing his cheek and rubbing his smoothed hair. He smiled at her, a wonderful, genuine smile that sped my heart up. His eyes were sharp and intelligent and cold. His jaw was sharp, even though his face still held a lot of roundness. He spoke to his mother then, and whatever he said made her eyes crinkle with humor. She embraced him then, and then shooed him toward the train. He went, but waved much like I had. I realized as he was approaching that he might notice me staring at him, so I looked away and into the train. I stepped into the first compartment I saw, which was empty. I sat down, and looked out the window. I could see my parents now, searching for me. I opened my window and waved vigorously. They noticed and waved back. Just then the train lurched and started to chug away. I felt a wave of panic, but settled it with the thought of finally belonging somewhere.

I settled into my seat once my parents' tearful faces were out of view and sighed, content here. It was strange, to be in a foreign train, in a foreign world, going to a foreign school built on a foreign concept. But it felt right.

"May I sit with you? It seems that everywhere else is full and I would rather not stand in the corridor." A calculated drawl, a smooth tone, tinged with sarcasm. Yet it seemed friendly enough.

I turned my head toward the voice, and was astounded to find the very blonde boy I was studying not too long ago. I gaped. He was indeed a very sharp looking boy.

"I don't mind," I said, confidently and loudly. I was not to be underestimated here. I would belong here. His eyes narrowed and he sat across from me.

"What's your name?" He asked. I looked into his very blue eyes. He was very pale, almost translucent. I wondered if it was natural in this world of magic.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you," I extended my hand, which I supposed was a friendly enough gesture.

He took it with no hesitation, which I concluded was the outcome of well learned manners. "Draco Malfoy." He asserted. His eyes twinkled with pride as he said this, and a smirk leaned on his lips. "And the pleasure is mine. I haven't heard your name before." His statement hung in the air like a question that I did not know the answer to.

"Um, well yes, I haven't heard yours either." I responded quite shyly, confused as to whether or not I should know the names of all the students attending Hogwarts. His eyebrows dipped in confusion.

"No? Oh, well," He frowned slightly, much to my confusion. "Well now you do I suppose." I nodded in agreement and looked out the window, quite content with the silence.

"Have you heard that Harry Potter is on the train? It's weird, right? He's like a legend, don't you think?" He certainly liked to talk. Regardless, I had no idea of whom he spoke.

"Who is Harry Potter?"

"Wow, you must live under a rock, Granger." He said with disdain. "He's only the reason you-know-who didn't rise to power. My father says it was all tripe, and that he's not- oh, I'm not supposed to talk about that…" he trailed off and glanced up nervously at me. "Anyway, Harry Potter is a famous wizard who destroyed you-know-who when he was only a baby. And all that he was left with was a scar on his forehead. I haven't heard much about him, just that he's in our year."

His face was very animated as he spoke, I noticed, about anything. "I don't know his name. Or you-know-who."

Draco sighed dramatically and eventually told me the tale, after much ridicule, that a very dark wizard who liked to hurt people rose to power and was eventually stopped by a baby, whose parents had been killed, and all that the baby was left with was a scar.

"That's fascinating. And he's here?" Draco nodded in response.

"Father says he would make a good friend." Draco said with a smirk.

"And what do you think?" I asked, unable to stop myself. Draco's smirk faltered.

"Well," he stumbled. "I don't really know." He frowned. He seemed uncomfortable when asked about his own opinion on something. "We should change into our robes soon," he said, standing. He held out a hand to help me stand.

He showed me to the back of the train where our trunks were. I dug out my robes and he showed me to a loo where I could change. I thanked him. When I emerged he was nowhere to be seen, so I made my way back to our compartment.

"Um, miss, excuse me," a timid voice called. I turned to see a small, chubby boy with a reddened face. "Have you by chance seen a toad? I'm missing mine." He seemed very embarrassed.

"No, I haven't, but I'll keep an eye out…what's your name?" I would need to know in case I found it.

"Oh, right, Neville Longbottom, thank you." He seemed relieved I didn't dismiss him. With that I smiled politely and continued on my way. I passed many compartments, and glanced in a few. One in particular caught my eye because I noticed a frog climbing on the window. I slide open the door as the frog hopped out the window. I didn't believe it was a toad, but I figured I would ask.

"Hi, either of you wouldn't have happened to have seen a toad, would you? A boy named Neville has lost his." I informed them clearly. They were both rough looking boys, one with shaggy red hair and freckles, and the other with messy black hair and broken glasses. They gaped at me and I took that for an answer. The redhead had his wand poised at a rat, and looked as if he was going to do a spell.

My heart jumped at the opportunity to learn something. "Are you doing magic?" I asked. "Go on, then!" I sat across from him and watched as he spouted some gibberish about turning his rat yellow. How disappointing.

I practiced a spell on the boy with the broken glasses, a spell I had read about in a textbook for first years, to repair them. They stared at me in amazement. That's when I noticed it. The red scar on the black haired boy's forehead, it was the scar from Draco's story.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" I ask. And he smiles a bit timidly and nods. "Well, you best be changing into your robes, we should be arriving soon." And with that, I leave and head back to my compartment.

When I return, Draco is there in his robes, watching the world outside. I sit across from him and he looks at me, nods, and looks away again.

"I saw Harry Potter." I say, and he immediately looks at me. "He looks pretty normal to me." Draco smirked. I smiled. His eyes lingered on mine, and then went back to the trees.


End file.
